


A Bradley in King Arthur's Court

by rubberglue



Category: Merlin (TV), Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 09:38:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3645528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubberglue/pseuds/rubberglue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bradley finds himself in Camelot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bradley in King Arthur's Court

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost, this is ridiculous crack. I wrote it a long time ago, possibly on the urging of certain enablers on tumblr. Secondly, I don't know if this is something I will finish. But I'm posting it for archiving reasons and one day I will look back and be horrified / amused that I put this on paper.

When Colin darted past him, then stopped, turned around and stared, he ignored it. Colin’s warming up methods were often slightly odd and after all these years, Bradley was no longer surprised. Then Colin opened his mouth and Bradley was pretty sure there was a huge prank being played on him. He had a nose for this sort of things, being the Merlin’s set prankster extraordinaire. He shrugged it off. After all, nothing Colin could come up with on his own would be of the high standards Bradley had set over the years. And frankly, Colin referring to him as Arthur was probably the least creative prank in the history of all pranks. 

A few minutes later, Bradley had to admit he was impressed. Not only had Colin gotten all the other actors to act as if he was really Arthur, he even managed to get all the other people working on the set to do so. They must really like Colin (something he long realised when Colin got seconds during lunch easily while he was always told he’s not the only one eating) since they even went to all the trouble to dress up as villagers from Camelot. Even the usually humourless Grant Holmes from the kitchens played along. Only Colin would be able to get people to do such things. Bradley sighed. Perhaps he shouldn’t have told the directors that Colin was feeling left out because he hadn’t had a chance recently to film a shirtless scene. Perhaps. The payoff was pretty good though. Anyway, Bradley had long finished filming his scenes and was just hanging around because he was bored. This was probably a good time to leave.

Except that his trailer was missing. In fact, all the trailers were missing.

And so was that little gift shop just outside the entrance of the castle. 

Instead, there was an actual town. An honest to goodness medieval town bustling with people, several of whom bowed as they passed him. Either this was the most elaborate prank in the world or he was losing his mind. 

He suspected he was losing his mind, which to be honest, was something he thought was a long time coming. Then he might have fainted. 

+

Camelot castle was really the Pierrefonds castle and the Cardiff studio all merged into one. So really, Bradley had no idea where any of the places in the castle were in relation to each other, which meant even if he managed to escape from the dungeons, he would just be hopelessly lost. Not that he wasn’t already lost - lost in Camelot apparently. At first he thought he might be dreaming but the bruise forming on his thigh suggested he was not. The ensuing conversation he had with the guard, who looked too much like the lovely girl Laura who touched up his make up regularly, almost convinced him that he was really in Camelot - the real thing not that show he worked on. Almost because that was quite unbelievable wasn’t it? But Sherlock, greatest detective of all time, would say “when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth”.

Which meant the truth was he was stuck in his BBC show. Somehow.

Why didn’t he work on Sherlock or Being Human, you know, shows set in modern day cities with important things like the Internet and flushing toilets? Maybe not Being Human - he didn’t fancy werewolves or vampires. Or Fast Girls. Why couldn’t he have gotten stuck in Fast Girls? No supernatural there, modern day conveniences -

“You! Get up! The king wants to see you.” Keys jangled in the lock and the door swung open. Rupert and Eoin stood there, all serious with their hands on their swords. Seeing that they had more or less stripped him of his armour and that fake sword he carried, he wondered why they were so apprehensive. Then it came to him - magic. Slowly he pushed himself up from the cold, hard ground and allowed them to secure him and to lead him to the throne room. If he was here, he wondered who the King was. Cenred? Morgana? Uther?

He tried chatting to them but aside from some troubled looks, they ignored him. It was a strange feeling. Rupert and Eoin rarely ignored him. Mocked him, yes. Annoyed him, definitely but ignore him? Sighing again (he had a feeling he was going to be doing a lot of this), he stumbled into the throne room. That brief sliver of hope he clung to that this was just an elaborate prank disappeared when he saw everyone turn to him and stare in a mix of confusion and fear. The king, whose back faced him, turned slowly around.

Oh god. The king was him. Arthur, which was him but not him. He had the same face and Bradley assumed the rest of his body too. Scratch that thought. That was slightly disturbing. 

He tried for a smile. There was no returning smile. Slowly, Arthur raised his sword and pointed it at him. The tip touched his throat and it was enough to realise that the sword was sharp, not like the blunt version he used.

“Explain yourself. Who are you? Why do you look like me? And why are you here?”

Bradley didn’t think this was the best time for a joke so he told the truth. “I have no idea.” His eyes traversed the room, watching everyone’s reaction closely. Then he saw her, standing next to Merlin, her face filled with concern and uncertainty. 

+

In the end, he made up a story about how he was a traveller from Ealdor, mainly because it was the only village from the show he could remember the name of. That of course led to raised eyebrows from Merlin and Guinevere but they said nothing, probably used to the massive numbers of liars who entered Camelot. It was a lot more difficult to explain away why he had dressed himself like the king. Which was why he was back in the dungeons again. 

Why couldn’t they use cheap metal shackles like they did on set, he wondered in frustration as he tugged at the chains yet again. Arthur had said something about further investigations and Bradley really hoped that didn’t lead to accusations of magic (because how else did one explain popping into existence suddenly with the same face as the king) and then burning at the stake. If the shackles that bound him weren’t cheap metal, he doubted that the fire that burned him would be CGI. And really, in all those morbid moments when he contemplated his own death, this scenario never crossed his mind. Maybe he should have listened to his sister when she said acting was a bad idea. He had known that he might never make it big or even earn enough to support himself but he never thought it would literally kill him.

Bradley leaned against the cold, stone wall and sighed. Only him. He wondered if he was missing in the real world and if anyone noticed. If he were Colin, he was pretty sure the moment he disappeared, everyone and their mother would be out searching for him. The problem was, he wasn’t Colin.

Loud screams punctuated his musings and he jumped up, momentarily forgetting that he was shackled to the wall.

“What was that?” 

“I’m not sure!” The guard (this time someone who looked like Greg who worked in make up) leapt to his feet and drew his sword. Definitely not Greg then who acted like physical exercise might kill him. “I’m going to check.”

“Wait, don’t leave me here!”

But Greg the guard was gone. Before Bradley could fully assess the situation, Angel - no actually Guinevere came dashing into the dungeons. 

"You!" A torch in her hand, she turned to him. "Did you do this?"

“Do what? If you haven’t noticed, I’m chained up in a cell.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and watched him suspiciously. “You come here, looking like Arthur, lying about where you’re from -” 

A loud screech interrupted her words and she turned sharply. Bradley could see nothing but there was a chill in the air. Only the two of them were in the dungeons but there was another presence. He could sense it and from the look in her eyes, so could Gwen.

“What is it?”

“The girl from the village said they had no faces.” Gwen swallowed. “We need to get out of here.”

No faces. Why did that sound familiar?

Suddenly Gwen was in the cell with him, keys in her trembling hands as she tried to unshackle him. It took a while but suddenly he was free. Rubbing his wrists, the words “no faces” echoed in his head. Gwen grabbed his hand and they ran. 

No faces. Dorocha. He was in the middle of the first episode of series 4. 

“Your torch! It’s the only thing they are afraid of. Hold it up.”

Gwen looked at him curiously but said nothing, lifting up her torch as they darted down the corridor. “We need to help the others. If fire works against them, then we need to make sure the towns have fire.”

“Isn’t that kind of dangerous?” Now that he was free, he didn’t really want to put himself in yet more danger. What he needed was to find a way home. 

Her face was blank and her tone neutral, yet he could feel her disapproval. “You don’t have to come. I guess you’re free now.”

“Why didn’t you just leave me in the dungeons?”

“It wouldn’t have been right.” A nod and Gwen turned and hurried off.

After a slight hesitation, he went after her. He could hardly let her wander around the towns alone. Plus she intrigued him. 

A knight passed them in the corridors.

“Give me your sword.”

“Of course, my lord.” As Bradley took the sword from the slightly baffled knight, it occurred to him that looking like the Prince of Camelot may not be such a bad thing. 

+

Bradley sat in a corner of infirmary mostly hidden by the shadows watching as Gwen fluttered around, helping Gaius with those who had been unfortunate enough to have encountered the Dorocha. He was itching to tell them how to deal with the Dorocha but he wasn’t quite sure how things worked here. 

Was it like Back to the Future in which any little thing he did would have repercussions on his actual life? Because he was still holding out hope that he would return home somehow and the last thing he wanted was to return and discover that his world has changed horribly because of something he did here. It would be like that story his Year 7 English teacher made him read that involved dinosaurs and butterflies and a time machine or something like that. 

“The prince has returned!” He saw the smile that blossomed on Gwen’s face and indulged himself, letting his eyes linger on her. If he did that with Angel, she would probably have made a face then teased him mercilessly. Distracted by thoughts of Gwen and Angel and whether Angel was Gwen or Gwen was Angel, Bradley didn’t notice that the prince had entered the infirmary.

“Why is he here?” Once again a sword pointed at him. 

“I couldn’t leave him in the dungeons. He would have died. And he helped me with the villagers."

The sword quivered a little before Arthur lowered it. "Do anything suspicious and I'll have you executed."

"Alright. I'll just sit here. Nothing suspicious at all." Bradley raised his hands, deftly hiding the sword he took off the guard. Never know when he might need a sword in Camelot.

Arthur ignored him and turned to Gwen. They had some whispered conversation before Arthur left the infirmary. 

“Stay here. It’s best if people don’t see two of their princes running around.” Then Gwen disappeared as well.

For a while, Bradley sat in the corner and contemplated the people before him. Were they real, he wondered. Gwen certainly felt real when her fingers brushed against his wrist earlier as she unlocked his shackles. Still, he needed to work out how real they were. Were they as real as characters you watched on a television or were they actual, living people? Because if it were the latter, then perhaps he ought to tell them what horrors they were about to face. Why was his life so confusing?

"Be careful!" Startled out of his thoughts, Bradley looked up to see Merlin dart past him. Instinctively, he jumped up and dashed after Merlin, forgetting the orders to stay hidden. If there was one person who could possibly help him get back to real life, it would be him. 

“Hey!”

Merlin whipped around, startled. “Arthur! You scared me - you’re not Arthur. You’re that strange guy who looks like him. Why are you out of the dungeons?”

“Gwen let me out. I need to talk to you.”

Gesturing to the chaos swirling around them, Merlin snapped, “If you haven’t noticed, this isn’t the best time! You and your strange appearance really is the least of our worries at the moment! Right now, we need to figure out - why am I wasting time talking to you?” 

As Merlin made to leave, Bradley caught his arm, a half-baked plan in his head. “If I tell you how to get rid of the Dorocha, will you help me?” That stopped Merlin in his tracks. 

“You know how to get rid of these things? You know what they are called? Who are you? Is this your doing?” Merlin advanced towards him and although Bradley knew that Colin was really as harmless as a lamb, this Merlin person probably wasn’t. Not with the glare he was giving Bradley. 

“No! I just come from a place that - that - has dealt with such things before.”

“I’m listening.”

Bradley nodded. “Right so basically, there’s a rift.”

“In what?”

“Er - the universe. And you need someone to step into it and it’ll be mended and all will be well.” Bradley wondered if he should mention that Arthur would try to do it and so would Merlin and Lancelot and in the end Lancelot would win the battle to die for Camelot.

“And where is this rift?”

He knew this. Bradley knew he knew it. He just couldn’t remember. “It was some ruined place with an old woman.”

Merlin stared at him in disbelief. “A ruined place with an old woman.”

“Yeah. There can’t be many ruined places with old women.” He really needed to pay more attention to the scripts.

“Great.” With a shake of his head, Merlin was off.

“Don’t forget you promised to help me!” 

Silence.

A random servant stared at him. He frowned and the servant scurried away. Maybe he should go look for Gwen. At least she seemed the least likely to want to murder him.

+

The infirmary was getting more and more crowded and Bradley really didn’t want to sit around with all these frozen people. While they might look like the French extras with make-up on, it creeped him out to think that these people were really, truly frozen and on the edge of death, even if he wasn’t sure how death worked in this strange, semi-real world he was in. After all, he knew that people could quite easily come back from the dead - poor Lancelot.

Grabbing the sword he stashed earlier, he wandered off to look for Gwen. With her around, he felt safer - not that he would tell her that. All around him, people were preparing - either to defend themselves from the Dorochas or to ride out with the prince. Hardly anyone paid him any attention, especially when he kept his head down. As he stared blankly into the infirmary, it occurred to him that this was probably the bit in which Gwen would go to Lancelot and ask him to keep Arthur safe, that tiny action which was about to ruin everything for Gwen. Suddenly, he was gripped with the desire to run down to where they were and stop her from talking to Lancelot.

Curling his hand around his sword, he counted to ten. Then twenty. But the urge was still there. Letting out a sigh, he slowly crept out of the infirmary. Of course, no one noticed him but he still tiptoed his way out. One could never be too careful. 

Outside the castle, he saw the horses lined up and Lancelot lingering, stroking his horse. 

“Why are you here?” Gwen came up behind him and hissed angrily. “I told you to stay in the infirmary.”

“I need to talk to you.” He took her hand but she pulled it away quickly. Cursing himself for forgetting she wasn’t Angel and he didn’t have the same sort of touchy relationship he had with this Gwen, he muttered a quick apology. 

“I don’t have time to talk to you. I need to speak with Lancelot.”

“But -”

To his annoyance, she darted away from him quickly and he watched with a sinking heart as she walked towards Lancelot. Maybe this was for the best. He really shouldn’t be interfering with the past. He frowned at his thoughts. This wasn’t the past. It was - it was entertainment. 

A servant bumped into him as he slowly made his way back to his gloomy corner in the infirmary. 

“Hey,” he said, stopping him. “Tell me, you’ve lived in Camelot all your life?”

“Yes, my lord.” The servant kept his eyes to the ground. 

“Since you were born?” 

The servant nodded, still looking at the ground. 

“You remember your childhood? Everything?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“All of it? Every single bit? From when you were a child in Camelot?”

Finally, the servant looked up, curiosity in his eyes. “I can’t say for sure, my lord.” The servant paused for a while, they said almost in a whisper, “Sire, didn’t you just leave the castle to ride out?”

Damn. He scrambled for a reason. “Ah yes, yes. I forgot something important so I came back to get it. Well off with you! I’m sure you have important cleaning stuff to do.” Bradley waved a hand vaguely and the servant heaved a sigh of relief before scurrying off. So much for trying to determine how real all these people were, how real this whole situation was. With Arthur and Merlin off on their quest, there really was nothing much he could do now and so he slunk back to the infirmary, attempting, not very successfully, to be as inconspicuous as possible.

A few servants did a double take and stared at him as he walked down the corridor but none of them said anything, more concerned with getting themselves to safety than anything else. Back in the infirmary, he quietly sat in that dark corner. All the bustle in the infirmary some hours ago had stopped and only the almost-dead lay in there with him. Bradley never thought of himself as a coward but staring out at rows and rows of lifeless, frozen bodies chilled him. It took all his willpower to stay put but wandering around the castle was probably not a good idea. He was either going to confuse even more servants or he would be attacked by the Dorochas. More importantly, he expected Gwen to return.

She did, walking into the room deep in thought. Pleased to see someone actually alive, he leapt from his corner.

“Gwen!”

“What?” Gwen turned quickly and stared at him. “You’re still here.”

“Where else was I to go? I would love to go home but it seems like I’m stuck here.”

Her face softened and she sat on a nearby stool, gesturing for him to sit as well. “Where is home?”

“Home is on a planet far, far away,” he muttered flippantly before realising she wouldn’t get the reference. Unsurprisingly, she was frowning at him.

“Your home is called Planet? I’m afraid I’ve never heard of that village before. It’s not under Camelot’s rule.”

There was no way he was going to be able to explain where home was when he had no idea where home was. He wasn’t even sure if he had fallen through some portal, or time-travelled. For all he knew, he might have gotten hit one too many times during the fight scenes and he was really just lying in a coma in some French hospital and this was a result of that extra piece of pie he really shouldn't have stolen off Angel’s plate. Come to think of it, that last explanation might be the best one. At least then he wouldn’t have to do any work - just wait for time to pass until his brain grew tired of dreaming or he awoke from his coma. 

“I don’t know your name,” Gwen said apologetically, cutting into his thoughts.

“Oh, it’s Bradley.”

“Hi Bradley. It’s nice to meet you.”

His name had never sounded so good before until Gwen got hold of it. Angel often just spat his name out, not that he blamed her since he had to admit he did go out of his way to annoy her, but Gwen caressed his name. He liked it very much. 

“Once Arthur returns, I’m sure he’ll be willing to get some knights to ride with you to Planet.”

Bradley only wished it was that easy.

+

He was bored. So very bored. There was really only so much one could do in an infirmary filled with frozen people. None of them needed entertaining. Aside from brief glances at them (as instructed by Gwen) now and then to make sure - he wasn’t quite sure what - that they weren’t more frozen maybe? Was there degrees of frozeness? He didn’t know. In his life, the things in his freezer were either frozen or not. 

Gwen wasn’t around. He wasn’t sure what she was doing. He wasn’t actually sure what people did outside of the scenes in the script. Lead normal lives he supposed - eat meals, kick a ball (were there balls in Camelot?), sleep. What did Arthur do? Frankly, Camelot didn’t seem terribly exciting. No wonder he was always hunting and participating in tournaments.

“Bradley?”

“Gwen?” It was amazing how quietly she could walk. 

“Since it seems that it will be some time before you can return to Planet -” She stopped when he choked, staring at him in confusion. “Is something wrong?”

“Uh, I don’t actually live in Planet.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Oh. Well, then. Where are you from?”

“London.”

“London? I’ve not heard of that either. You must have travelled a long way.”

He nodded. “A long way. What were you saying earlier?”

“I prepared a room for you in the servant’s wing since you might have to stay a while and it’s not safe to be in the towns right now. You can’t stay in the infirmary forever.” She looked around, then smiled wryly. “It’s not the most cheerful place in the castle.”

A laugh burst out of him. “You’ve got that right.” When Gwen’s smile widened at his response, a strange sense of warmth filled him. He frowned at his thoughts. This was ridiculous.

“Come on. I’ll show you your room. I don’t think the infirmed are going anywhere soon.”

Gwen had a sense of humour. That thought pleased him as well. He shook his head to rid himself of such foolish thoughts. He should be focused on getting back home, not how pretty Gwen looked. Which was an odd thought because she looked like Angel. Not that Angel wasn’t pretty but - oh what on earth was he thinking of anyway? He quickened his pace and caught up with her.

“How did you get here? And why?” Gwen asked easily as they made their way down the empty corridors.

He was about to make up a story about him being involved in some heroics but he saw the genuine interest in her eyes. The words died on his tongue and he coughed. “I have no idea.”

“No idea?”

He shrugged. “None. I was back at home, and then I wasn’t. I was here.”

She stopped and eyed him warily. “Magic?”

“To be honest, I have no idea.There isn’t magic where I am from.”

“Really? It must be lovely to live in a world without magic,” she sighed wistfully. 

“You know, I think maybe magic isn’t all that bad.” The moment the words left his mouth, regret set in. The last thing he needed was for them to think he was sympathetic to magic. He did not want to burn to death. Once, fueled by alcohol, he, Tomiwa and Colin had sat down and had a serious (as serious as anything could be when one is tipsy) discussion on the best way to die. Eventually, after lots of gruesome descriptions (from Colin mostly - this no longer surprised Bradley) and elimination, they decided that dying was probably a bad thing and to be avoided at all costs. 

“You wouldn’t know if you lived in a place with no magic,” she replied coolly.

He really had nothing to say to that and they walked in silence for a while. Then, she glanced out of the window. “The gates. They are closing the gates!” 

Peering over her shoulder, he couldn’t see what she was looking at but there was a commotion happening below. It was obviously troubling Gwen as he felt her body tense in front of him. Without thinking, he slipped an arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. For a brief moment, he felt her relax slightly before she quickly moved away, darting a disapproving look at him before looking out of the window again.

That was awkward. Just because she looked like Angel didn’t mean she was Angel. And obviously, going around touching people you barely knew was a bad idea. Why did his life have to be so difficult?

“Er, my room?”

“It’s just down the corridor, second door on the right,” she said absently, her eyes still trained on the window. He hesitated slightly but realised that her attention was no longer on him. Slightly miffed, he wandered off. 

Either he or Gwen could not count because when he flung open what he thought was the second door on the right, two servants, unfortunately very much under-dressed, jumped apart then stared at him in horror. Muttering a quick apology, he quickly left the room but not before noticing that they looked like Jake from set design and Pete from effects. When he got back home, that piece of information was going to be very useful. Very useful indeed, he grinned to himself.

He pushed open the door of the next room, sighing in relief when it was empty. Now that he was finally alone and not surrounded by frozen, dying people, he realised just how exhausted he was. He took the few steps to the bed and then flung himself on it, only to discover to his horror, just how thin the mattress was. And suddenly, everything was too much. Despair washed over him as he attempted to no avail to make himself comfortable on the hard bed. Thus far, he hadn’t let himself think about what would happen if he couldn’t get back to France or London or anywhere that was in the 21st century but now as he lay in the cold, sparsely furnished room, fear crept into his heart, fear that he would never see the people he loved again and fear that he was probably the least equipped person to survive whatever universe this was. With the thought of him dying from a particularly painful form of dysentery in his head, he fell into an uneasy sleep, his head on a rock hard pillow.


End file.
